Lydia Visits Stiles
by mufasus
Summary: It's a short story/chapter of an idea I had, Lydia paying Stiles after everything and just wanting to be with him.


The knock on the door was enough to jerk Stiles away from his thoughts. He had grown so used to the quiet around him that the knock had caught him off guard. Stiles stumbled my way to the front door, bumping into a corner on the way making him scream out in pain. "_Shit." _He mumbled holding onto his hip. _Shit, shit, shit._

He opened up the door only to see Lydia. 5 foot 3, green eyed, strawberry blonde haired Lydia. _Shit._

Before he could even find something to say she was already pushing him out of the way and making her way in. Stiles looked at her, confused to why she was there in his house, he was still holding onto his hip even though the pain had simmered down to a dull throbbing. "Close the door, you're letting the cold in." Lydia said casually as she made her way up to his room. Stiles stood frozen for a moment looking out to the car that was parked outside his house knowing it's hers, and then back to stairs that she had just made her way up feeling completely puzzled. But then alarm bells began ringing in his mind, Lydia was in his house. Lydia. _Shit._

He found her standing in his room looking up at the empty black board where his plans and clues had once been, a mystery solved and buried. She was gazing deep in thought not noticing that he had entered the room. He didn't mind it really; he enjoyed just watching her as she fiddled with her necklace, her expression far away with her thoughts where he couldn't reach her, where he could never reach her. "I miss her." She suddenly said her voice croaking. "I miss them."

Stiles went stiff as he caught onto what she was saying feeling, all of a sudden feeling uncomfortable. He missed Allison too, and oddly felt the absence of Aidan as well. He had been trying to forget what had happened, to not think of it too much, or at all. Mostly trying to make Scott feel better; mostly to distract everyone else, to make everyone seem better, he couldn't stand everyone being so _sad._ And here Lydia was, in his room, making him remember.

"I want to forget." She spoke again turning to him. "How easy would everything be if we didn't remember?" Stiles opened his mouth to answer when she shook her head quickly. "Actually, no, don't answer. I want to remember," She took in a breath. "They deserve my memories, our memories, they deserve more but…"

"I know." Stiles managed to say. "I know."

He didn't feel like asking her why she was there, it didn't matter to him anymore. He had realised how much he didn't feel like being alone, the company was greatly appreciated.

All of sudden Lydia chuckled, blushing, turning back away from Stiles. "What?" Stiles asked quickly, suddenly self-conscious of the pyjama bottoms he was wearing with his baggy top. Lydia shook her head refusing to answer. "Is there something on my face?"

"It's nothing." Lydia said, but she was still smirking avoiding eye contact with Stiles. "It's actually not really funny."

"What?" He asked desperate for an answer,

"I was thinking about you," she said. "Well, not _you." _She pulled a loose strand behind her ear, walking over to his desk feeling the urge to do something to avoid his eyes. "The nogistune, _the bad Stiles_." She did well to hide her smirk.

"What's funny about that?" Stiles asked confused.

"Nothing..." Lydia looked up finding his eyes. "It's kind of hot."

"Um…_what_?" Stiles asked confused, what?

"Well, minus the whole killing and actual _bad _of it, you kind of suit the whole badass look."

Stiles found himself smiling, feeling the wave of warmth a compliment from Lydia gave him. "Thank you." He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "I _really_ can't take the credit for that."

Lydia gave a small smile as she looked at him as if deciding something, this made Stiles feel a little more uncomfortable, his mouth opened to say something but then closed again when he found that talking about the weather would be pointless and so he played with his hands looking for a way to casually fidget.

"I'm sad." Lydia finally said pushing herself forward towards Stiles. "I don't like being sad." She closed the space that kept them apart and by now Stiles could hear her soft breathing and could see himself in her reflection, wide eyed and shocked. "Kiss me."

His breath got hitched in his throat; he had lost the ability to…to do anything.

"What-Um-Woah-Lydia-I…" He stammered finding it difficult to find the words, any words. "Pfft…" He blew some air out of his mouth. "The weather…so crappy."

"Kiss me." She said closed the space that was already so small in between them. "Kiss me as if you're a hunter and I'm a werewolf and the only way to kill me is to kiss me, kiss me."

Stiles was pretty sure he needed his inhaler now. It was all dream, a big very real feeling dream. He didn't want to wake up, he felt as if he did it, if he kissed her, that it would trigger something and he'd wake up.

"Are you sure?" His voice was breathless, as if it were just finding itself again.

"Kiss me, Stiles."

It was an order, a direct order that he needed to follow.

He pulled himself a little closer to her, his hands at her back pulling her into him and his lips finding hers. Soft and delicate, that's how she felt, like a rose, precious. Unreal. Things heated up rapidly and he had her against the wall, he felt the urge to say "sorry" but fought against it as he felt that if he pulled away that it would all shatter for sure. Her legs found her way around his hips; she wrapped them tight around him pulling him closer so that nothing could pass in-between them. He wanted to tell her that she was beautiful, that she didn't need to be sad, that he was there for her through whatever, that things happened that didn't need to happen and that she wasn't alone, she wasn't. But mostly he just wanted to keep kissing her. "Stiles." She breathed when they finally pulled away.

"Lydia," he breathed.

"Stop being such a pussy." She said. He looked at her confused, searching her face as to what she meant. Stop being a pussy? He thought of the courage and the bravery it took to take her into his arms even though she asked for it, being a disappointment was his true fear. "Go for it," She whispered. She grabbed a hand that was at the small of her back, taking it to her bum, taking it into her hands so that it squeezed her bum. "Do whatever you want," She pulled him in again with her legs around him and grinded up against him and he was sure, certain, that he had lost his breath and was having a heart attack. "Feel whatever you need to," Her lips were now against his neck, planting small kisses up against it, leading herself up to his jaw line, up to his earlobe and she whispered right by his whisper, so softly that it almost got lost. "Go for it. I don't mind."


End file.
